


Scars

by StumpyTPDimples



Series: Hawk-Guy series [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bit of fluff!, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint needs looking after, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sure I'll think of more tags!, Natasha Needs a Hug, Random Adventures, Scar Stories, Scars, They both just need to relax with a blanket and movies really!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StumpyTPDimples/pseuds/StumpyTPDimples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scars always held pretty interesting stories. None more so than those gracing Clint Barton's body.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of the little series of Hawkeye I've been writing. Just a short little fic. Edited by myself last summer so all mistakes are mine and I was very mistake riddled back then!  
> Hope you enjoy!

"Just relax, you baby." She laughed, throwing his sweat soaked t-shirt into the hamper for wash. "Had you dropped the macho act and actually told me earlier, you wouldn't be like this right now."

It was one of the days Natasha always dreaded most. Her boyfriend was sick. And holy crap, when Clint Barton was sick, it was always worse than having a toddler to mind!

She knew from when he was injured all those times before that he was a horrible patient. The fact he was now trying to get out of his bed proved he was the same when sick.

"I'm fine, Tash. Let's just get back to training." He sighed, hands braced on the mattress to help him sit up. He froze when his eyes met her glare, slowly lowering to lie back down. "Or rest.. Rest is good too."

"Damn straight." She laughed, tucking him in before kissing his forehead and turning to leave.

"Nat.." Good lord that pleading voice always killed her, especially with that weak fever twinge in it. She turned to look at him, tough his eyes were pretty distant. "Can you stay..?"

"Of course." She whispered with a smile, going to lie on the bed and into his welcoming arms.

It was about a month since SHIELD had fallen, so this was a regular nightly position for them. No SHIELD meant no missions, no missions meant no being away from eachother, no being away from eachother meant they got to spend every single night in each others arms. Natasha loved it.

She wasn't tired at all, it only being about 11 in the morning or so, so she just ran her fingers over his chest as he relaxed, examining every little mark that graced his solid body.

One stood out more than others, a nasty sized one that rose and fell in different places, no consistency to it like normal ones. She had never seen one like it before, and never noticed it because, well, the times he was topless she was focused on other things entirely.. Scars definitely weren't in her mind!

"Lebanon." Clint whispered to her, she always found it weird how he could just answer unspoken questions like that. "The botched evac of soldiers. Remember?"

She frowned a little in confusion, honestly not remembering. Though she could recall de-briefing's he went to about something to do with Lebanon. He always told her to stay away from them, she never knew why.

She heard the chuckle rip through his chest, causing her to look up at him. His eyes were closed, face tinged pink, so she was worried the fever was making him mad.

"Not surprised." He finally said, hugging her a little tighter. "They had you pretty doped up for a while after.."

"They did..?" She asked in confusion, and he just nodded.

"It was barely a year before New York, Tash.." He began, and Natasha snuggled in to listen to the tale he was, no doubt, about to begin.

*~*~*~*

He really hated army gear. Like seriously. It was thick and stuffy, and way too warm for Lebanon's climate. And it itched like mad!

SHIELD had gotten word that some UN peacekeepers were taken in an unpopulated hostile region. Two squadrons of them. Usually not SHIELD's concern, but there were rumours that Hydra were working in these parts, and none of the usual Lebanese groups claimed responsibility.

So, their best team was sent out to play rescue with the UN.

"Stop fidgeting, will you?" Natasha scolded, strapping two hand guns to her waist.

"Come on! You can't tell me that this doesn't annoy you!" He complained with a pout, tugging the collar of the cammo gear they were ordered to wear.

"It's just for one mission, Barton. You'll survive." She smiled, slinging her machine gun around her shoulders, just like Clint, and every other operative agent stuck in the back of this van.

"I don't understand why I couldn't bring my bow.."

"Any kills can't be traced back to SHIELD. So shut up about it." She growled, pinching his leg as punishment.

No one knew they weren't military. They were there for a simple scout assignment. See if it is Hydra, help as much as possible without over doing it, then get the hell out of there.

"Phillips!" The commanders voice boomed, which made Clint look to him. God, he hated authority so much.. But he had to play his part! He sounded angry at this Phillips guy though!

Oh wait.. That was him..

"Sir?" He replied, sitting to attention. He could just feel Natasha smirk beside him.

"Next time answer me the first time, damn yank!" He growled out, his British accent sometimes making it difficult for Clint to understand. But, commander Bradford was a well respected guy in the British military, so he'd be nice!

"You'll be outside with O'Rourke to usher the troops to the van, understood?"

"But sir.." He started with a kind of panicked voice. He couldn't leave Natasha like that. Not if Hydra was actually around.

"Excuse me?" The commander growled, the tone of voice mixed with Natasha's hand on his knee told him to drop it.

"Understood, sir." Barton growled right back, venom dripping from the 'sir'.

The van squeaked to a hault, and they all clambered out to the unforgiving cold of midnight Lebanon.

They were a little over a kilometre from the bunker, they'd have to walk the rest of the way so the van's don't ruin the surprise.

All except Barton and this O'Rourke guy, that is.

Clint stayed away from everyone, acting as though he was helping Natasha check her weapon.

"Keep the camera on, got it?" He ordered her, a slight frown on his face as he checked that the screen to the feed on his watch was working. "And comms. I can be your second eyes and ears."

"Relax." Her hand on his cheek stopped him, and he looked up to see Natasha gracing him with an amused smile. "You worry too much. It's not my first solo.."

"Costello! Roll out!" Bradford's voice boomed, causing Clint to frown.

"Sir!" Natasha called back, giving Clint's arm a little encouraging squeeze before leaving.

While O'Rourke - a young guy with short black cropped hair, big build, thickest Northern Irish accent he ever heard - relaxed on the back of the truck; Clint watched the other five soldiers leave until they were nothing but dots on the horizon.

"Y'seem to be a worrier, Yank." O'Rourke's laughing voice reached his ears, and he just shrugged.

"Just wanted a bit of the action is all." He simply replied, going to sit next to the Irish man.

"Not get enough of that in your own army? I'd bet a shit tonne that your military is alot more exciting than ours!"

"Sometimes." Clint laughed, swinging his legs off the truck. He'd love to live in a neutral country like O'Rourke! All Ireland did was sent peacekeepers from time to time!

Maybe when he gets out of SHIELD.

If he gets out of SHIELD..

"Say, what's that?" Clint's eyes widened as the soldier poked his comms sets. How did he even notice them!? They were pretty far in his ear!

"Eh, hearing aids." He chuckled nervously, taking the aid from the opposite ear to show him since a soldier would know in an instant what a comm set looked like.

"A deaf soldier.." O'Rourke hummed, a curious pout crossing his features. "No wonder Bradford left you behind! You're useless!"

"Shut it." Barton growled, even if that it was just a joke is was a shitty low blow one.

The conversation dropped, so Clint got up and wandered, moving away so he could talk to Natasha.

"Any Hydra?" He said through his comms, looking to the screen for a sign.

'Definitely something.' sign was sent back. Three fingers held up. One was none, two was maybe, three was they saw something to suggest it was true, four was a definite sighting.

"Stay safe please.." He whispered with a slight frown, grinning though when a middle finger appeared on the screen.

No need to tell you all what that meant.

Another 20 minutes passed before he heard anymore through the comms. He found the commotion odd. They found the soldiers, but were breaking into teams. Bradford had asked Natasha to scope out the rest of the place with him while the others led the captured men out.

Clint's gut didn't like that. He chose her over his own soldiers.. Why..?

"I don't like this, Tash.." He said through the comms, watching the action on the screen.

He let her lead, so he couldn't see what Bradford was up to.

One hand moved up and down infront of the camera, a fisted one. Thumb facing up then straight.

Took him a moment to realise she was half signing to relax, so he took a deep breath to try.

He was just over reacting. Probably heat stroke from this damn get up.

"Holy shit.." He whispered in disbelief when Natasha kicked in a door, her own Russian version of 'Holy shit' escaping her lips at the same time.

It must have been the main office of the place. Definitely the boss man's place. Behind a large wooden desk held a huge painting of Red Skull, the founder and former leader of Hydra before Captain America took him out all those years ago.

He watched as Natasha walked the room, glancing at various papers, majority of them blue prints and plans for different weapons, some just boring contracts, and others were kill orders. There was one folder that read 'Stark' and Clint made a mental note to definitely grab that one later.

"Impressive, isn't it?" He heard over the comms, the faint voice belonging to Bradford.

The commander didn't sound phased at all, and of the parts of the room Clint could see on the small screen, he noticed the soldier go to the desk.

"Have you seen many of the bases, Agent Romanoff?"

Shit.

Clint's eyes widened when the commander took a seat behind the desk, gun casually aimed at Natasha.

Shit shit.

"Seems like you did your research.." Natasha replied calmly, he noticed that she was disarming herself.

Shit shit shit.

Dammit, get out of there!

He would have shouted that down the comms, but he was afraid Bradford would hear and he'd get her killed.

"Oh no, we always knew about you." He chuckled, sounding so damn casual with her. "We always knew we were on SHIELDs radar, but never thought they'd send the infamous Black Widow after us.. Or Hawkeye for that matter. Was really disappointed he didn't bring his bow.."

"You'd be dead right now if he did." She replied coldly, which was damn true!

If he wasn't at risk of being shot by O'Rourke for deserting, he'd be running to get her!

That, and he trusted his partner enough to let her handle this.

"Perhaps.." Bradford hummed, then Clint's heart sank as he fired the gun. He didn't know where the soldier hit her, but Natasha instantly fell to the ground. He could just see Bradford's boots approaching.

Shit shit fuck shit bastard!

"Tash!?" He yelled down the comms, looking up a moment when O'Rourke came out of the truck. He switched to a harsh whisper so he wouldn't get suspicious. "Dammit Widow, answer me! That's an ord-"

He stopped when he heard a spine chilling command from the comms, O'Rourke's hand going to his ear meaning the message was going to him.

"Widow's mine. Taking her to interrogation. Take out Hawk."

O'Rourke shouldn't have realised that Clint could hear the command, the young man was smiling at him meant that he hadn't a clue Clint knew everything.

"Just got word they're safe. Set up the back of the truck for me?"

Clint just nodded, following the soldier to the van.

Pick your moment, Barton..

When O'Rourke was opening the back of the van, he struck. The butt of his machine gun struck the base of the young man's skull. Enough force to send him to the ground, not enough to kill or even knock him out. Clint needed answers and he couldn't get them if the last two happened.

When the soldier was on his back, Clint kicked his gun from out of reach and instantly straddled him, pinning his arms to his sides with his legs.

"Where's he taking her?" He growled, being answered with just a smirk.

Three punches across the face. He hadn't time for this!

"Oh just go home you absolute wanker! Find a new fuck buddy!" O'Rourke laughed, moving his jaw around to test the pain.

Four more punches. A hell of a lot stronger this time.

"Where the fuck is interrogation!?"

"Like I'd tell you." The cocky voice was gone. Guess the punches and likely concussion was getting to him. "Hydra's so much better than SHIELD at teaching how to deal with interrogation.."

Clint frowned in annoyance at that, taking a handgun from his holder.

A bullet to the shoulder gained such a delightful scream from the Irish man.

"Five shots left, man." Clint said calmly, though his mind was going mad with worry.

"Hail Hydra.." O'Rourke replied through gritted teeth, once he gained enough breath to.

A bullet to the other shoulder. Another scream.

"N-not gonna work!"

Clint rolled his eyes at that comment. Of course it would. It always does.

Both knee's got a bullet this time. He'd break.

"Next one's going through your balls you piece of shit!" Clint growled, really sick of these games! He held the barrel of the gun to the afore mentioned body part just to prove he wasn't bluffing.

He screamed a moment, the barrel was scalding. It was literally burning his balls off.

"The basement of the bunker!" The soldier yelled, whimpering from pain then.

Clint smiled sweetly at him, patting his cheek with his free hand a moment.

"Was that so hard? Thanks pal!" He said in a cheery voice, shooting his balls anyways though!

That bullet earned about half a scream before the guy finally passed out.

Clint got up and didn't even bother move the bleeding mess of a soldier before him. He just ran towards the bunker, re-filling his gun as he went.

This is why the commander wanted him to stay behind. The asshole knew as soon as they arrived who they were. He had all this planned from the word go.

If he lay even one finger on his partner, there'd be another dick shot off today.

When he was about ten minutes out, he took the satellite phone from his pocket.

"Evac, Hawk in. Widow comped. Extraction in progress. Need medical."

"Roger that Hawk. Bird is 30 clicks. Over."

He growled to himself and pushed on, 30 minutes was way too much time for something bad to happen! He burst right into the bunker, not bothering to see if there were actually any other Hydra soldiers around. Even if shot, he'd still get her out.

No one was around though, so he was actually happy for a moment! The previous team obviously took them all out before he could get there. Or Bradford had none in there, one or the other.

When the basement door appeared infront of him, he paused, needing a moment to catch his breath. This gear was heavy! New found respect for soldiers!

He made sure he had the machine gun at the ready and cracked the door open.

All thoughts of danger left his mind when he saw his partner tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Her jacket was gone, leaving her in the dark green undershirt issued. A wet dark spot was pretty damn visible, even in the low light, meaning she was shot pretty badly just next to her stomach. Commander obviously had good aim. A painful place to be shot without damaging any organs that could kill.

"Tash.." He whispered in shock, running in and over to his partner. First thing's first; he checked to make sure she still actually had a pulse.

Faint, but there. He checked her eyes, and they were just about open, but glassed over.

Pain wouldn't do that..

"Cli-" She began, though she couldn't finish. He couldn't tell if it was pain that stopped her or if she physically couldn't talk.

He had a bad feeling..

"Shh.." He whispered, stroking her cheek a moment to comfort her. Though her eyes suddenly came to life a little, the pleading look in them confusing him.

What was wrong with her..?

He found out what as soon as the side of his head was struck, causing him to fall away from Natasha.

White spots were all over his vision as he tried get back up, a swift kick to the ribs sent him onto his back though before he could complete the task.

"Agent Barton! An honour!" He looked up at he commander above him, though the man's face was blurry Clint just knew he was smirking. "Great fan of your work."

"Oh, go to hell.." Clint growled, though the boot constricting his throat soon turned that into a whimper.

"Already heading there. Might as well enjoy the ride a little!" He laughed, Clint faintly registering another pair of boots by him. The other guy took a hold of Barton and pulled him to his feet, restraining him in a choke hold. Bradford smiled as he began taking Clint's weapons.

"Really wanted to see your bow.." He actually sounded upset, though he was now happily looking through the set of daggers Clint brought along.

Clint turned his gaze towards Natasha, and she was just watching this all unfold. No protest, no anger in those eyes, nothing. What had they done to her..?

"Planning some interrogations?" Bradford asked smugly, holding one of the more brutal blades to the light to examine it.

Clint shuddered a little, it was a favourite of his, but only in his hands. It was a jaggedly sharp curved blade, designed to inflict as much pain as possible going in, and even more when coming out. The healing of the wound hurt too, because of the large crevice the curve shape left. Years later, if something pushed against the scar that remained, the person would more than likely be sore for a week. It was a horrific blade he used in countless interrogations, and now it seemed it would be used today by another hand.

"Have to be prepared for everything." Clint choked out, difficult to with the asshole's lacky strangling him.

"Suppose so.. Hope you prepared for this.." Bradford hummed, the next thing Barton heard was his own scream as the blade was jabbed in his chest, avoiding the heat by millimetres, he later noted. This guy was one sadistic genius.

He didn't even give Clint the satisfaction of bleeding out! The soldier turned to go back towards Natasha, leaving the dagger to send while hot painful bursts throughout Hawkeye's body.

"Don't you touch her!" Clint yelled, struggling as best he could against his captor. Pain be dammed, near unconsciousness be dammed, he couldn't let the asshole touch her!

Bradford sent Clint a smirk, the other blade Hawkeye owned in his hand. "Evac 15 clicks." He suddenly heard from the comms. He just had to live 15 minutes, then they could get out of here.

"My boy.." The Hydra commander smirked, drawing the blade along Natasha's cheek to draw a nice thin line of blood. No pain, no scream, not even a flinch. This confused Clint.

He knew Natasha was good, but there wasn't even a slight flinch from her. She just kept staring stone eyed at Clint.

"She's so drugged up right now she can barely feel her own limbs."

"On what..?" Hawkeye asked in shock, eyes wide as his voice tried hide the worried tone.

Bradford just smirked even wider, cutting the restraints off Natasha's hands.

"Sweetie, what's your friends name there?"

"Clinton Francis Barton." She instantly replied, Clint's jaw dropping slack at her robot-esque voice. Bradford laughed at his expression.

"Good girl. Now, tell me, what's the best way to cause young Clinton pain..?" He was kneeling infront of Natasha now, but she wasn't doing anything to stop him.

She wouldn't..

"Bad hearing.. SHIELD did tests.. You take his aids, take his sense, and his pain tolerance drops five fold.."

His heart split in two. How the hell could she give his weakness up so easily!?

"Interesting." Bradford hummed, patting Natasha's head as if she was a pet.

"Nat.." Clint whispered in shock, falling to his knees when the lackey pulled him down.

"We have perfected interrogation, Agent Barton." Bradford smiled, kneeling infront of Hawkeye. "Pain works, but a nice numbing agent and truth serum works alot better."

"Evac on site. Carrier 1 click south. Copy?"

He just has to get them out and they'll be fine..

"Deaf then.." The commander hummed, reaching into Clint's ears to yank out the aids, no matter how much he struggled.

Natasha was right. A little after he lost his hearing, they did a study on him. They wanted to see if the tales were true, if one sense goes the others heighten. It was originally to see if he managed to gain even better eyesight, but it soon turned into every sense. The sense of touch was by far the worst. That was the one with pain. And when they tested different kind of pain stimuli, torture techniques, he caved at a five fold threshold. That meant, when deaf, he felt pain five times worse than normal.

So, for example, the dagger in his chest right now was so painful that it was about to make him black out. He had to get them out though, so he fought it back.

Panic must've rushed to his eyes, because Bradford's smirk grew scary.

He was finally released by the lackey, but he didn't have a moment to rest.

A kick to his chest, to the dagger to be more precise, instantly had him screaming in pain. But the commander wasn't satisfied with that, because he was instantly ontop of Barton, landing blow after blow to his head, occasionally using the straight dagger to stab at random points on his body.

The pain was excruciating, he couldn't hear it but he could see Bradford laughing. His mind was blurry, but he had to do something. So, when the commander was distracted with his own smugness, Clint grabbed the soldiers gun from the holster on Bradfords thigh and shot the bastard right between the eyes before he even realised Clint had moved.

He took a moment before aiming at the other man in the room. His vision may have been ridiculously blurry, but Hawkeye never missed. So the bullet landed right between his eyes too.

Barton took a moment to take a deep breath, as deep as he could manage at least. It was so damn painful..

He mustered up all his strength and pushed the dead soldier off his body, adrenaline taking over and helping him stand.

Natasha was coming somewhat through the haze, because her eyes were beginning to look panicked.

"Shh.. I'm fine.." He whispered to her, not hearing her words but knowing it must have been something to that effect. He was bleeding from alot of places, but not too bad. The second they took this dagger out then he'd have a problem - that's when all the blood would leave and he hoped they'd knock him out first. He could feel his eyes growing by the second, could feel his ribs shift, but her gunshot was still bleeding profusely. He had to get her some help.

He smiled through the pain to reassure her, worked through it too as he carefully lifted her from the chair.

He had to get to the evac point.

Everywhere was burning, his vision was blurry, he couldn't find his aids so he couldn't hear if someone was following them.

He pushed on though, he had to get her to safety, that was the only thing going through his mind. She lost way too much blood already.

He made it out the front door and gave a smile of relief when he saw the carrier waiting for them.

Gathering every ounce of energy, he broke out into a run, ignoring all his injuries.

He climbed in with Natasha and let the paramedics take her, her panicked eyes barely opened.

Another medic was saying something to him, beginning to work on him as the carrier took off.

Natasha was freaking out, he knew by how much she was thrashing about. He pushed the medics away from around him and stood from his seat, going over to gently stroke her cheek.

She relaxed, thankfully.

"Get some sleep.. I got first watch.." He hoped the words came out right, because he knew it would be the only thing that would calm her down.

She said something as her eyes fell closed, but his lip reading was terrible, even on a good day.

He fell into a chair when he knew she was safe, gritting his teeth as the medic began pulling the dagger from him. The blackness of unconsciousness quickly approached, and he welcomed it like an old friend.

*~*~*~*

"I woke a week later.." Clint said in a whisper, his eyes having been closed a while.

Natasha was sitting up, having jumped when she was captured in the story. It honestly felt like he was just making it up, like it was a bedtime story, but as he went on things began to come back to her.

He was weak telling the tale, so through out it she had to nudge him awake a lot.

"They kept you sedated for three days, sent you off on some mission then.. I didn't get to see you for three weeks after cause they were afraid my injuries would make you relapse."

"You lied to me. You said those bandages were from getting roughed up on a hit." She whispered in shock, remembering the day they did see eachother again. Even then he was in a state. Must've been a bad beat down.. Worse than he described.

He just laughed and nodded, nuzzling the pillow a little.

She made an upset sound and lay back down, her hand resting on his stomach as she gave the jagged scar a soft kiss.

"I love you.." Natasha whispered after a while, and his lips were then felt ontop of her head as he gave it a soft kiss.

"I love you too." He whispered back, but she had to shake her head.

Clint went back for her. Took torture she knew was his worst fear. Managed to survive it and still rescued her even though she betrayed him. There was only one thing she would have said to him on that carrier that day.

She pulled back and looked at his face, his confused eyes meeting hers.

"What you couldn't hear me say.." She began, but his softening eyes and his arms inviting her in for a hug meant he understood her already.

She happily cuddled into his arms, a little smile on her face as they relaxed.

"Good to know all I need do is die for your love." He teased after a while, chuckling when she growled and pinched his stomach.

"You're not the only one who ever went on a suicide mission, y'know." She growled, though she smiled a little when his hand gently rubbed her back.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, don't tell me you forget Khost.."

She smiled a little sadly at his shiver, giving his chest a little kiss to calm him down.

Of course he remembered.. One of the worst missions she can remember.


	2. Chapter 2

The rise and fall of his chest was always a hypnotic sight for her. It was relaxing, and always made her know he was alive and well. That's all she really wanted in life now; one thing to hold onto, one thing to help her feel secure, even if that one thing was just Clint.

Natasha was sure that she'd actually be pretty fine if that one thing was only Clint!

The fever took him to the land of sleep after he finished the story, leaving Natasha to just relax beside him.

She wouldn't leave, just incase he needed her. He got bad nightmares lately, on a normal day like. So she could only imagine what horrors a fever would bring.

She nuzzled his chest a little and gave it a kiss. She'd only ever be this relaxed with him. This un-Widow like with him. She knew Clint noticed it, he mentioned it a lot, how happy and honoured he felt that she only really smiled at him. Properly, at least. Tony often got her "I'll kill you" smile.

She ran her hand along his chest once more, pouting in concentration at all the little bumps and cuts. She never really got scars, she was lucky like that. Her body just didn't clot into scar tissue. He was riddled with them though. No doubt any little cut he ever got scarred.

The long one right down his side always upset her. It was from the first time she properly failed him. The first time she felt heart broken.

It was one scar of many from that mission in Khost.

*~*~*~*

"Just listen to me for one fucking minute, will you?" Clint growled, his eyes hard, some anger she'd never seen from him before flashing across them.

So Natasha listened to him.

"They know we're here so we're fucked. Get out of here and let me do my job."

"It's not just your job." She whispered back harshly, shifting a little in their little corner to try wake her leg up. "This was my mission."

"STRIKE Team; Delta's." He corrected, and she rolled her eyes. She hated being part of a team. "My job is to shoot. Yours is interrogation. Get out of here so you can live to fulfil your part you stubborn bitch."

She slapped him, and he looked ready to pounce, until she drew the pistol from her waist and aimed it at his face.

"Call me bitch one more time, Barton." She growled, finger ghosting over the trigger. "I dare you to."

"Can you just trust me for like five minutes!?" Clint yelled this time, and she wanted to punch him because they were hiding from pretty heavily armed guards, anything above a whisper would have them caught.

She shook her head.

"I don't trust people. Joys of being the Black Widow." She simply replied, putting the gun back in it's place before peeking over the edge of the small partition to see if they were clear yet. "And I especially don't trust you, Hawkboy. Tried kill me once."

"Eye." He corrected through a sigh, and she smirked a little at the irritation clear in his voice. "And you actually left me for dead so you're one to talk."

The mission had gone expectantly wrong. Simply because they had the completely wrong information. What they thought to be a simple smuggling ring turned out to be a giant weapons and drugs operation. There was only the one team, STRIKE Team; Delta. A.K.A Black Widow and Hawkeye.

They had choppers about a mile out feeding information but their comms had been disconnected by the radar dish.

This wasn't their first mission together, they had a few before hand, but they still hated everything about each other so they weren't really a team yet. Natasha hated him. Everything he stood for, everything he does, every little detail about his work she hates. More than one occasion the thought crossed her mind that it would have been easier to kill him that day he came for her.

"You want to go guns blazing? Fine." He eventually sighed, his hand behind his back to grab an arrow. "But if you get killed, I'm dancing on your grave."

"Ditto." She smirked, blowing him a kiss before jumping up and over the partition, both guns raised as she waiting for an attack.

Nothing.

So she went deeper into the building. From the outside of the built up area of Khost, it looked like a normal office building. Inside, looked like a normal office building. Until doors were opened to reveal that each room contained different kinds of weapons or drugs, all of them looked like they could kill in a second.

Natasha glanced behind her as she started up some stairs, Barton no where in sight.

She laughed to herself, the idiot probably went to find some high place to watch everything. She still had no idea how he was an agent. All he did was watch and shoot, nothing special.

Alright, his aim was perfect, but that was about it.

Carefully, she opened the door at the top of the stairs, her jaw dropping at the size of the room facing her.

Boxes upon boxes lined the walls, each marked with different pictures of guns or words that she assumed were the names of whatever drugs were inside.

And guards. So many fucking guards. She had to close the door again and take a minute to gather her thoughts. They had to get the mission done and over with, they had to find the main guy and take him in for questioning. And it seemed like she'd have to cross the warehouse floor to get to that point. She checked the ammo in her guns, then the ammo in her bites, and burst in guns blazing.

They weren't expecting it, which is odd since they all knew herself and Barton were in the building. Maybe they thought the agents had given up and gone home by now.

So she easily took out half of them with the ammo in her guns. Once that was done, she had to use the ammo left in her bites, but the guards just kept going after her.

So dropped down to avoid a kick aimed at her head, spinning around to take the mans feet from under him. She snapped his neck with her legs as she simultaneously went for the next guard after her.

There were too many though, and she had no ammo left. She didn't know where they were all coming from, but they had her pinned to the floor defenceless in moments.

There was a familiar sound above all the shouting, the sound of an arrow flying through the air, Barton had done his job for once and actually had her six.

Though, no one fell, she didn't hear the 'thump' of a body. What was he doing?

She glanced up as the guards looked around frantically, noting the little red beeping light of his exploding arrow embedded in the wall.

Her eyes went wide. Exploding arrow..

He was going to kill the two of them..

The idiot.

BOOM! Then instant blackness. That fucking idiot..

She woke with a start, the world spinning as she sat bolt upright. She had to close her eyes again though otherwise she'd have blacked out completely.

"Breathe Natasha, you're ok." She heard beside her, and she'd know Coulson's voice anywhere.

Romanoff listened to her handler, trying to calm her rapid breathing as he lay her back down. She took a moment, eventually calming down, and allowed herself to assess her injuries.

A banging headache, her wrist hurt but she could move it so there was no cast. She had a dull pain along her leg, and as she moved it, she felt the familiar tug of stitches.

"Better than Francis, I'd say.." She whispered, her hand gently rubbing her forehead.

No response. Nothing even from Barton about using his middle name, he usually went mad at that. That meant things were bad. Barton always got hurt, because he threw himself into stupid situations or tried defend her like a god damn hero. So she knew he'd be bad.

But Coulson would always respond.

She opened her eyes and looked up at her handler, shocked to see the remains of tears on his face.

"He's not.." She started in a whisper, surprising herself by finding a lump in her throat.

She can safely and honestly say she never had any form of attachment to Barton. She never considered him a friend, barely thought of him as an ally, but he was dependable. He was her partner, and they were one hell of a team. He couldn't be gone.

"We don't know.." Coulson eventually replied, a hand running through his hair.

How can they not know!? He was either alive or dead, right? There was no in-between!

Wait..

There was an in-between..

"How could you let him get taken!?" She yelled, sitting up once again to glare at the older agent. "Dammit Coulson, he'll crack! We know what those assholes can do, they'll do worse to him!"

"We hardly had a choice, did we!?" He yelled back, and this shocked her. It was the first time he'd yelled at her. It snapped her back to normal though.

"Tracker?" She simply said, getting off the bed to go to the counter and get her weapons. They were back in the SHIELD base, she knew that because no normal hospital room would have her weapons lying around so freely.

"Not responding.." He whispered, and she froze. The only time the tracker wouldn't respond is if the agents heart was no longer beating.

"Do you have a team ready?" She responded, choosing to ignore what the information she received meant. 

This was her fault. She went diving in head first, she chose to go against all those guards, she was the reason he had to give away his position and blow the place up. Once again, she was the reason Clint Barton's life was in danger and she couldn't have that red in her ledger. She already had so much in it due to him. Natasha Romanoff would rather die than owe Clint Barton anymore! 

"Natasha, there's no point.." He said softly, and she could hear the worry in his voice. She wasn't looking at him though, she was busy refilling her weapons.

"The tracker should send his last know location.." She said sharply, slipping the magazine into the gun before strapping it to her waist. "Send them to my phone."

"He's gone, Natasha." Coulson sounded annoyed now, but she didn't care, she just went for the door. He blocked her though, and she deflated a little. The tears were falling freely from him now. "He's dead."

"Then I'm bringing back his body." She whispered harshly, glaring down his stare. "He deserves better than being left wherever they have him. He's the best agent this place has. I hate him, Coulson. You know that, he knows that, but dammit he deserves respect. We owe him that much."

She pushed past him then, heading down the hall.

"Agent! You don't have permission to leave!" She heard Coulson call, but she didn't stop. "You won't have a job if you continue!"

"Then consider this my resignation!" She called back when she entered the elevator, giving him a mock salute before heading up to Clint's quarters. If he was still alive, and she was getting him out, he'd need a bow.

She may not like the guy, but they were a team, and she never left a member of a team behind. That, and, she still owed him. If he was dead, this was the last thing she could do for him. She could get him home, she could give him a proper burial, she could put the archer to rest then avenge the shit out of him.

She growled a little at that thought. If that stubborn bastard died protecting her again then she'd bring him back to life and kill him herself.

Natasha seriously hated owing people..

She froze when she saw Barton's door open, no one should be in there. She knocked softly and peeked her head in. "Hawk..?"

She knew it wasn't him, she knew that, but it was a habit now each time she went to get him from the room.

"Not quite." A male voice responded, and an agent around her age stepped from the bathroom with a quiver of arrows and a bow in hands. She recognised him immediately. One of Clint's best friends, his former partner, Agent Ryan Douglas. Short cropped black hair, a skilled technician, usually worked with Clint because he was genius with tactics but not the best with a gun. He was a specialist in martial arts though, so he had that going for him.

He gave Natasha a sad smile. They probably had three conversations in the few months she was here, usually civil, one time not so much when he learned she tried kill his partner. "You have the same idea?"

"I guess so." She replied with a nod, noticing now that he was in his combat gear.

"Good." He grinned, nodding a little. He really was like Clint, that school boy arrogance about him. Though his was alot more tolerable than Barton's was. "You can tag along if you want."

"Please." She scoffed, arms folded across her chest. She did feel a little bad sometimes about taking his partner, the poor guy had been put on desk duty until they found someone else. "I'm the higher agent here. You wanna join STRIKE Team; Delta, then here's your chance."

She turned and left the room then, knowing the guy would follow without needing any more invitation.

She hated the team name. After this mission, she'd never use it again.

It took them about an hour to reach the building the whole mission fell apart in. The whole hour was spent going over whatever little plan they had. There were SHIELD agents stationed all around the perimeter, having been there since they dragged Natasha out but not daring go back inside.

No one had come out. Which means Barton was still in there somewhere.

"Top office, probably." Natasha said to Agent Douglas as she checked her weapons, glancing up the building then. "If our floor was destroyed, they'd have brought him up rather than down."

"That makes sense." Ryan nodded, strapping on a bullet proof vest to prepare himself. She wondered if herself and Clint were the only ones who never bothered do that.

Night had fallen, so they had Barton held up in there for easily six hours by now. Maybe longer, she didn't really know the time they finished the mission at.

"Widow." Douglas said softly, drawing her attention. She frowned a little at the worry in his eyes. "Even if he did survive, he's been up there so long, I don't know how long he'll last.."

"He'll survive." She simply said, slinging the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder before heading towards the building. "He's too stubborn to leave without annoying me to death first."

It was strange how easily they fell into silence once inside the building. The only communication between the two being hand signals. Standard stuff, that wasn't what she found strange. What she found strange was how comfortably it happened when this was the first time she worked with this guy.

Though he was just like Clint. That may have been why.

They had their weapons drawn just incase there were some stragglers not in the upper levels.

Four levels up and there was no one encountered, and she was getting a little worried.

Barton should have taken out alot of them with the explosion, but there were still a few, and she didn't know if the two of them were enough to take them out.

Things got difficult when they got to the eleventh floor, the floor that the mission went to hell in. The door was blown off the hinges, so they could see in and know there were no guards in there. Still though, they took cover behind some rubble because here was where things would get unknown.

"The next set of stairs are just ahead." She whispered, peeking over the rubble to make sure she saw correctly. "We need to be careful.."

"No running in?" Ryan asked curiously, he must've been the guns blazing one before she came along.

She shook her head, a slight frown crossing her features. That's what got them in this mess in the first place. No more running in. She had to plan things now.

"We'll go slow.. Eliminate any enemies and find Barton." She said simply, standing up properly to be ready to move. "No prisoners this time. This is a rescue mission."

"Sounds like a plan." He grinned, jumping up and heading over to the door with his gun raised.

Definitely Barton.

She wondered had they trained together or something. Or perhaps Clint trained him. He was definitely younger than the archer, Clint was a good 4 years or so older than she was, so it was possible. The guy just had the same movements, the same aiming style, the same everything as Barton. She'd have to ask him when they were out of here.

And by him she meant Barton. No way that son of a bitch was dying until she said it was ok to.

Slowly, they ascended staircase after staircase.

No one.

This should make her happy, it seemed to make Ryan happy after each floor passed, but this meant one of two things.

Either they were all waiting in the main office to ambush them.

Or they weren't here.

And if they weren't here, then they wasted time on this mission, wasted time that Barton definitely didn't have right now.

As usual, when they came to another door, they took a side each and he threw a flash bang into the room. Once the light and smoke was cleared, they'd enter to see if there was anyone in the space. This was the third last floor and there was still no one!

"What the hell is going on!?" She growled, losing her cool now. There was still no sign that the idea that Clint was around here was actually true!

"Romanoff.." Douglas' voice was quiet, strange, so she looked over to him. He was on the other side of the room, at the entrance way to the next stair case, and he was looking down at something.

Curiosity got the better of her and she went over to him, freezing at what she saw.

There, at his feet, was a standard SHIELD tracker. The beeping light was off because there was no heartbeat, but holy crap there was alot of blood.

"No.." She whispered in disbelief, shaking her head at the thought they ripped it from him. That's the only way to get it out. It was close to the heart to be powered by the blood flowing from it, so the only way to take it out was to cut all the way down the side big enough to rip the little device out.

When she opened the door to the stairwell, she nearly got sick. It seemed like Ryan would for a moment, but he gathered himself before.

All the way up the stairs, all in the hall, there was blood. A steady stream of it.

He was dead. Barton was dead. There was no way he'd survive that.

"Come on." She whispered, starting up the stairs. There was the confirmation she needed. He was upstairs somewhere. She just had to get there and everything would be fine.

She froze when she heard shouting and the door slamming behind her, running back to it as quickly as she could. "Ryan!?"

"I'm fine!" He shouted back, though there was gun fire that stopped her heart. "They followed us! You go get Barton! I'll keep them here!"

She nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her, and headed up to the last level before the roof. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she threw in a flash bang, grinning when she heard some shouts. She got the bastards this time!

Once the smoke and light were gone, as the previous floors before, she jumped in with guns up. Five guys. No problem. Five expertly placed bullets into the head had them dead in a moment.

She turned and froze, eyes slightly wide.

There, chained up by the hands to the roof like some pig hanging, was Clint.

His back was to her, but she could see the gash to his side from this distance no problem. Mainly because blood was still dripping from it. His head was bowed, no doubt unconscious, no doubt in a world of pain.

Her eyes only scanned him for a moment though, because there one last guy there with a gun pointed at her partner.

"Drop them." He growled, pushing the gun into Barton's side which earned a yelp from the archer.

Still alive.. Good.

She complied, holding the guns up and releasing the magazines before slowly setting them on the ground.

The guy smirked, obviously feeling like he just won. As if.

In an instant, he was down, one of the bites on her wrists shot straight through his throat.

Never underestimate the Black Widow.

She wouldn't celebrate just yet. She couldn't.

She ran over to Clint side and checked him for a moment, his eyes were open, but barely.

Natasha frowned and braced a hand behind his back, ready to catch him since he'd drop like a bag of potatoes once she released him.

"Nat..?" He whispered, though she didn't look at him, too busy trying to snap the chain holding him up with one hand.

"I'm here." She replied calmly, just trying to let him know everything was ok now. She had no idea what they did to him, but he knew she hated the nickname from him, so it was only used when he was drugged up or so incredibly exhausted that he couldn't possibly form her full name. She didn't want to know what they were up to.

The chain snapped, and he fell with a barely concealed whimper. She caught him though, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she started leading him back towards the stairs. Down was easier than up. She needed to get him to the car, to the ambulance that was waiting, this was an unsanctioned mission so even if she did manage to haul him up to the roof she wouldn't be able to call for evac.

"This'll probably hurt.." She whispered to him, slowly easing him down the first set of stairs.

"S'kay.." He slurred, and she found herself glad he was still concious. He had to stay awake. He lost way too much blood.

She paused at the closed door at the end, leaning against it a moment to try listen for any movement. Agent Douglas had been fighting someone through there last she saw.

When she heard nothing, she slowly pushed it open, seeing two bodies on the ground instantly.

Natasha froze again. There, with a bullet through his skull, was Ryan Douglas.

Dammit..

She wasn't the only one to see though, because she felt Barton tense on her side.

"Is that..?" He started, standing up a little straighter.

Dammit dammit dammit..

"Clint.." She started, but she was cut off by a growl from her partner. She looked to him as he pulled his arm away, shocked when he ripped the bow and arrow from her.

"The bastards!" He yelled, and she hadn't the chance to stop him as he ran down the next set of stairs after whoever killed his former partner.

"Barton!" She shouted, chasing after him.

She was so damn confused. He was pretty much dead in her arms just a moment ago! Now he was running like nothing was wrong!?

Already, she came across one guard, an arrow through his eye.

"Clint! Stop it!" She shouted, terrified now since there was a nice trail of blood, more than likely his.

When she went through the next door, she saw he at least listened to her and stopped, but that was just so he could send arrow after arrow into guards' skulls.

"Barton!" She finally yelled, though she froze when he turned to face her, arrow nocked and aimed at her skull.

The look in his eyes.. It wasn't him. They had done something to him. The usual piercing blue had dimmed, a shadow of their usual selves.

"Who the fuck brought the kid!?" He yelled, her hands instinctively going up to show she wasn't a threat.

"He came himself, Clint.." She said calmly, carefully taking a step towards him. The arrow didn't lower. "He came to save you. We both did."

"You shouldn't have." He growled, fingers just ghosting on the string now. He was really meaning to kill her..

"I'm not the enemy.."

"But you are!" He yelled, his shoulders tensing up. "You are! You're the reason I got caught! You're the reason they put that stuff in me! I went to protect you and your stupid ass ideas! Now I'm broken and he's dead!"

"What stuff?" She asked calmly, though she was curious as fuck. What were they experimenting on him? "Clint.."

"I don't know!" He yelled, turning to send the arrow into another guards eye who just entered the room. Without missing a beat, he aimed another at Natasha.

"Barton, listen." She said calmly, approaching like she would a wounded animal now. "You don't have to do this."

He wouldn't miss, she wouldn't expect him to miss, so it didn't matter how close she got.

"You'll kill me as soon as I drop this!"

"I won't, I'm here to get you out."

He scoffed, and that actually hurt her. She risked her life to come back and get her, and he scoffed!

She knew why..

"I trust you, Clint.." Natasha whispered, close enough now to place a hand gently on the arrow. "I trust you. Please, just trust me."

"That'd be a mistake." He whispered back, though she did begin to see something in his eyes break.

"Not anymore." She smiled, having told him plenty of times in the past that trusting her was a mistake. "Please Clint."

It took a bit of stare down before anything happened. She could see it in Clint's eyes - the turmoil and struggle. He was fighting whatever they had in him, he was fighting the thought she was the enemy, he was battered and bruised but dammit Clint was still fighting. She didn't know how long it was but he eventually nodded, the bow lowering and arrow going back to it's quiver.

"Ryan deserved better, Nat.. So much better.." He said quietly, and she was about to agree but he began to fall.

"Easy Hawk." She said softly, catching him and putting him in the former position before leading him from the room. She had to get him some attention.

"I hadn't spoken to him in weeks.. He prob'ly thought I forgot 'bout him.." He slurred as they descended the levels. He was about to pass out. Natasha was sure of it. 

She was surprised he actually hadn't yet. Whatever they pumped into him must've been good stuff.

"He didn't.. He still cared about you." She replied, finally leading him down the last set of stairs. "Enough to go on a suicide mission for you."

She felt him chuckle more than she could hear it, he was far too weak to give his usual hearty one.

"Mean y'care about me..?" He slurred, and she had to smile.

"Don't push your luck, Hawkboy." She chuckled, placing him on the waiting trolley so he could be taken to the ambulance.

Though, maybe, just maybe, she did.

She got in the car she borrowed from SHIELD and followed the ambulance, beginning the long wait she was far too used to with Barton.

Four hours. That's how long he was in there. Long enough for her to go shower, go brief Coulson and Fury, go make sure his room and things were ok, then head back to the infirmary.

She even managed to have a bit of a nap in the waiting room.

When a nurse came to get her, she looked like she had the worst news in the world. Dead. Definitely dead. The ass.

"So, you said he had something in him..?" The nurse asked cautiously, and Natasha nodded, not knowing where she was going with it.

"We took samples, ran it through, and it seemed to be a rough formula for the super serum Captain Rogers has.."

Natasha froze. She heard legends about that, about Captain America. She never had the clearance to read the files, but it explained why Clint was able to do the things he did while he was so injured. If they even came close to anything like the formula then they're in trouble..

"We lost him three times." She went on, and Natasha felt her heart sink. "He's fine now, but he's in ICU, no visitors until we know just how bad he's been affected."

Widow just nodded, not sure how to take that at all. They were trying to make a super soldier..? Out of Clint..?

"He was aggressive.." Natasha finally spoke, not a question, a statement. And the nurse nodded.

"Makes good things great, and bad things worse.. Agent Barton may be good, but he has dark in him. We can't let anyone in until we know it's safe."

She nodded, thanking the nurse before turning to leave and tell Director Fury the news.

This was all her fault. She definitely had to keep a closer eye on her partner.

*~*~*~*

Natasha sighed at the memories before she ran soft kisses along Clint's chest, smirking slightly at the soft chuckle that ripped through it.

"I'm sick.. We can't play.." He whispered to her, his arm tightening around her.

"I'm not trying to play, you idiot." She laughed, nuzzling his shoulder a little.

The memory of that mission had her a little on edge now. It took him a month to calm down enough to be released that time. And since then, she had kept a pretty close eye on him. Even the time before New York when they were on separate missions, she'd have Phil call in and tell her how the archer was.

"Do you remember much from Khost?" Natasha whispered, trailing a finger along the shape of his abs. She felt him tense.

"Way to kill a mood.. Not really.." He replied quietly, she didn't want to bring him down, but it was a question she never asked. "You running off, the horrible pain of that tracker, Ryan's body, then a month of hell."

"You were such an ass on that serum." She growled softly, kissing his chest once more to calm him. "Pretty sure you made at least ten doctors quit.. And gave another ten concussions."

"Not my fault." He chuckled, pinching her arm gently to get her to shut up. "I don't know how Rogers handled that stuff."

"His was the proper one, yours was a shitty attempt at it."

Silence then. Though not uncomfortable, never uncomfortable, just silence. Even when they hated eachother, even when they couldn't stand being in the same room and probably had a million and one murderous thoughts about the other swimming through their minds, it was never uncomfortable. They were too compatible for that. 

"I love you, Tash.." He whispered after a while, and she grinned a little.

She sat up properly and took his face in both of hers, leaning in to give him a soft kiss. She'd never get sick of hearing him say that.

"Love you too, Clint.."

This was DEFINITELY the best way of keeping an eye on her partner.


	3. Chapter 3

The pop of stiff joints were what greeted Clint's ears when he stretched, giving a content sigh at the feeling.

Feeling a weight on his chest, he glanced down.

The sight made him grin. Natasha was still wrapped around him, head and hair on his chest, arm around his waist, and the slow steady rise and fall of her own chest showed that she was fast asleep.

All day yesterday she stayed in bed with him, only leaving him a moment to go get the Chinese food from the delivery guy.

She didn't have to do these things, didn't have to stay by him, didn't have to wear herself out nursing him back to health. Didn't have to make him feel like the luckiest most loved guy in the world. But she did.

She did because she wanted to, not because he asked. He always did the opposite of asking for help actually, always played it off like nothing was wrong so she wouldn't feel obliged to help him.

Natasha did it because they were partners, she did it because they're the only one the other can trust. She did it because she's good at it, because she knows what helps him and what makes things worse.

He knew now that she always does it because she loves him.

A grin spread across his face as that thought, and he can't help but place a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her (which was definitely no easy task!), he shifted his weight so she was lying on the bed instead of on him. Once the blanket was pulled up over her, a soft kiss placed on her temple, and a fresh shirt put on him, he went out to make the woman he loved a nice breakfast.

She still never did answer his proposal properly. It didn't annoy him at all, but it was still just up in the air. That had been a while ago that the words blurted out of his mouth and neither of them ever brought it up again.

He was starting to wonder if she had forgotten about it, but he knew far too well from arguments or cheap shots in a session that Natasha Romanoff never forgot!

He seriously wanted her as a wife though.. It sounds sentimental as hell, and even a little out of character for a spy to be thinking of stuff so trivial and so common, but the title was something personal, something that would last, something that he could look back on when he was 70 and say 'That was definitely the best mission I ever took.'

"Damn.." He laughed, shaking his head of the cheesy thought as he mixed up some pancakes. She'd beat his ass if she knew he was thinking such sappy things!

Still though, the thought of being married was one that always had him happy.

He smiled a little sadly at the batter in the bowl, the memory of one of the first times he had the pleasure of calling Natasha Romanoff his wife crossing his mind..

*~*~*~*

"What d'ya think about it?" Clint asked with a confused frown, watching as his hands fumbled with a dickie bow around his collar. He hated suits, so he really hated tuxes, but if they were to play the part he had to wear this one!

"Seems simple enough." Natasha replied softly, and he looked up at her as she opened up some sort of make up container.

"Geez, don't act too excited about it." He teased with a smirk, and Natasha just shrugged, finishing the last touch of her make-up in the mirror sitting on the table she was at.

Aster and Julia Rosewood. Pompous sounding?

Good! They're supposed to!

This wasn't their usual mission type. Barton felt a little out of place. There was a threat made a while ago that at this summit there would be a terrorist attack. Naturally, it spiked Fury's interest, so his ever favourite team was sent in to play security and spy.

Their covers? Well, it was an investment summit, some big shot wants to open a chain of hotels or something so billionaires from all around the world are here to see if it peaks their interest.

Enter Aster Rosewood. If one of these snooty patooty idiots were to learn to use Google or ask their servants to use it for them a page of the self made billionaire would pop up. One good thing Fury gained by having Tony Stark and the US Military now on his side? Stark has agreed to allow use of his business in undercover work. Not that they needed permission, but it's nice to have it!

So, to peak the interest of any terrorists among the group, Aster Rosewood worked as a simple engineer in the company, before he made his billions by investing his pay cheque in Stark Industries the afternoon before it hit it's highest point. When Stark Industries went on the good side, good ol' Aster boy struck by taking over the weapons manufacturing for the US Military.

The guy seems to have good luck! None more so than when it comes to Julia Rosewood.

Julia Rosewood was simple, no page on her other than the mentions in Aster's page. Why? Because if she was also some big shot then there'd be eyebrows raised and holes poked through. She was to be a simple small town girl, high school sweetheart of the billionaire.

Natasha was the rich one the last time, so it was his turn!

So, why was this lucky? Because she just so happened to be Aster's wife. I know, right!? Majorly lucky guy!

"Well Na-" He started when she stepped from the bathroom in a long navy evening gown, but he stopped when she put her hand up.

She glanced around before slowly signing, he could barely make it out because of how much she was hiding her hands. He got the gist though. 'There's a buzz. We may be bugged. Keep your mouth shut.'

He nodded in understanding, slipping the wedding ring onto his finger before offering her his hand. He couldn't hear a buzz at all, but his aids often made him miss things like that. He could hear a lot of things with them, better than ever before, but mechanical sounds escaped him and it often landed him in some trouble.

"My dear wife, shall we?" Clint asked with the most charming smile he could muster, and she just took his hand with a sweet smile of her own.

Camera's then. She wouldn't smile if they were just bugs. She'd roll her eyes and refuse his hand.

"Looking forward to it." She replied sweetly, leading him from the room. It scared him sometimes, how the cold and calculating assassin could so easily slip into a girly cover in a heartbeat.

For him, it was easy. He never acted like a killer in the first place. He was always the joker, the idiot, so it was simple for him to act like it when undercover.

Who knows? Maybe Natasha really is sweet and her coldness is a cover so when she goes undercover it's not actually undercover.. Oh lord that just confused him!

"What's that face for?" She asked through a little laugh when in the elevator, and he just smiled at her.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, leaning in so he could whisper in her ear. He knew she'd kill him later, but he couldn't resist the whole newly wed stuff!

"Gotta play the part.." He whispered, one of her hands resting gently on his chest. That threw him a little. Since she found out he lost his hearing she's been un-characteristically nice to him. It made him love her a little too much. "So I may have been thinking about our wedding night, my love.."

He laughed as she pushed him away, taking her hand though to lead her out of the elevator and to the dining hall.

All of this was way too fancy for him. They weren't outside the US this time, thankfully. They were in New York for this, the Waldorf Hotel of all places!

When he was in the circus, he used to pass the place from time to time. His brother would always turn to him and say that one day they'd spend a week in one of the rooms. One day, they could own the place. One day they'd have enough money to spend the rest of their lives in a place like this.

It never happened, of course. Shit got a little mental between them, and the times Barton was on his own he was never brave enough to try go in. They didn't really want a torn clothed no good archer ruining their image.

"Everything ok?" She whispered beside him, and he glanced at her to see worried eyes. He must have had some face on him to earn that look.

He smiled at her and nodded, leaning in to kiss her cheek before leading her through the tables to find their own.

And so began the most boring night of Clint's life..

Like seriously..

If SHIELD wasn't paying for all their drinks right now, then he'd be gone!

There wasn't even a trace of any terrorists. No one showing up on his radar, no names being dropped, nothing. Their table was filled with old guys going on and on about what they invested their money in and how they screwed the average Joe over to triple it.

It made Clint sick.

He glanced at his tightly clenched hand when a soft one was placed ontop of it, looking up then to see Natasha smiling at him. "Aster, darling, care for a dance?"

He smiled at the sweetness in her voice. He could get used to that!

He took her hand in his and brought it up for a kiss, excusing himself to the asshole he was talking to and leading her to the dance floor.

They easily fell into a dancing position, his right hand taking her left and his left arm wrapping around her waist. The rythym they fell into was fluid, graceful, like they were made to fit together in any kind of motion - be it ballroom dance or ballcrushing fights.

"I know it bothers you." She whispered with a slight smile, and he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"They just don't give a shit." He growled, carefully dancing around the floor with her, far enough away from people so they wouldn't be over heard. "How can they throw away money so easily when there are people living on the street.."

"You're just saying that cause you were one of those people." She said softly, pulling back a little to look at him. "Relax. It's all ok. Keep your eyes on the mission, ok?"

"I always do." He smiled, giving her a soft kiss then.

They were supposed to be newly weds, and haven't kissed once this whole evening. Their covers would so be blown if anyone was actually paying attention! He was happy to do so though! Even if he was terrified she'd rip his balls off!

"I think it was just an empty threat.." She sighed softly, her head nuzzling his shoulder a little since she let it rest there during the dance. "Those glasses picking up anything?"

"Zero." He sighed, no one in the place matched any facial recognition scans in his lenses. And SHIELD had facial recognition of every terrorist in the world, even those some governments never even heard a whisper about.

A sigh escaped her lips, and he smiled a little to himself. She was getting annoyed but she couldn't act it because it would blow her calm cover.

"Then who the hell would have a camera in our room..?" She whispered in his ear, his breath catching as she kissed behind it softly.

Just playing a part, Barton. Whispering sweet nothings in her new husband's ear. That was all. Dammit, calm down.

"Haven't a clue.." He whispered back, moving his hand so both of his arms were now around her waist. He felt himself lose the little bit of control he still somewhat had as he pulled her closer against him, but he really didn't seem to care at all.

"Excuse me, sir.." That damn voice.. It was that old geezer Clint wanted to punch in the face. . He pulled back from his wife anyway, and smiled at the guy. "Do you mind if I cut in?"

He really did mind. Like seriously. Like if he could tell the guy to fuck off, it would have been done before the words even left his mouth.

But he didn't. He wasn't Clint for once. So, Aster politely smiled and pulled away from his wife, giving her hand a soft kiss before offering it to the guy who wanted to dance with her.

Natasha would so kill him!

"Do mind her please. Only one I've got!" Clint grinned, feeling the 'I'm going to strangle you later' vibe coming from his partner.

The old guy laughed and nodded at the comment though. "Of course! Won't find one like it anywhere else!"

"Eyes open." Clint whispered to Natasha's ear, giving her a soft kiss on the lips then before heading over to the bar.

God her lips were so damn addictive..

He already wanted to grab her away from the guy and run away to some secret place..

Mission, Barton! Mission!

He shook his head clear of the thoughts and leaned against the bar, waiting for his pint to be pulled. Billionaire shouldn't be drinking such common drinks, but she had him driven a little mad so he really needed some good ol' classic alcohol.

He watched the two dancing curiously. They were having some conversation, but this was one of the times neither Clint nor Natasha had their comms in. Would have looked a little too suspicious. But dammit this was a time he definitely needed them!

Halfway through the pint, the song ended, and the pair broke away. She didn't look too impressed as they passed through the crowd towards the archer, though that was expected, she rarely liked dancing, not let alone with a complete stranger!

"Aster, sweetie.." She started when close enough, and he instantly knew something was up. "Roland here suggested we go back to our room for a drink. He's interested in our business."

Our.

Not your..

Our..

Well shit..

"Sounds great." Barton smiled, taking Natasha's hand in his own before downing the last of his pint with his other. "Follow us then."

Shit shit shit..

That's all that was going through his head all the way up in the elevator and to their room.

Luckily, Natasha was a little more calm so she took up the job of talking with Roland.

"So, Mr. Rosewood.." Roland started with a smile as Clint opened the door, but he never got to hear the end of the sentence.

He fought back for a moment, lashed out at whoever it was that was trying to grab him. He faintly head Natasha do the same, but as the worry for her spread through his body, and he turned to see what they were doing to her, he was distracted enough for something to be jabbed into his neck.

As the world went black, one thing swam through his mid.

Shit.

~~

"Coming back to me, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart..?

It was usually said in the most patronising way possible. Normally when he'd be flat out on his back on some training mats or when he'd be getting a scolding for fucking something up on a mission.

He hated how the former seemed to happen more often than not.

This was different though. The voice calling him by such a personal term of endearment was soft, worried.

Clint recognised the voice alright, just not the tone.

Something must be wrong.

"What's going on..?" He rasped out, coughing a little then. Something was in his system. Something was making him sluggish, slow. Something made it so he couldn't form sentences in his head, and definitely couldn't get them down to his mouth.

Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes peeked open.

Before him lay a sight he never liked seeing. The worried face of one Natasha Romanoff.

"Ta.." He started, but the quick look she gave him told him to zip it.

"Oh, thank goodness Aster! I was really starting to worry!"

Aster?

Oh.. So they haven't been compromised at all..

He took a quick glance around the room. His mind may have been pretty hazy but his eyes still caught everything.

Natasha was right infront of him, tied to a chair. Either she was drugged up on whatever had his whole body feeling like lead, or she was playing defenceless wife-of-billionaire, because she wasn't struggling even a little.

He had a horrible gut feeling it was the former.

Two guards sat lazily in the hotel room corner, just having some cigars and playing some cards. He hated cigar smoke. Brought back some horrible memories that really didn't help make a tricky situation like this better.

He couldn't feel any part of his body right now, just felt like he was floating really. But he'd bet whatever he had that he was tied to whatever he was sitting on just like Romanoff.

She had a fat lip right now and he couldn't help but frown at it.

"We're fine." She reassured in a whisper, the slightest of smiles on her face.

He knew she wasn't talking about Aster and Julia Rosewood.

No.

She was talking about Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

Their covers were intact.

The mission was still on.

Though that brought a new form of dread.

What beef did these guys have with Mr. Business man Aster..?

"Sleeping Beauty finally up?"

His head looked over to the voice, one of the tuxed out guards was making his way over.

That damn cigar..

He couldn't stop his eyes going slightly wide at the sight of it.

"Boss is just going to get some paperwork in order. Should be back in no time.

The sly grin on the asshole made Clint dread what paperwork was being got.

"We was told to keep yous companys though." The other guard piped in, not as soft spoken nor as grammatically wise as his counter part it would seem! The thick Bronx accent made it that bit more difficult to make out his words.

Clint and Natasha both kept their mouth shut. The two idiots were looking quite smug, Clint figured they thought they had sufficiently scared the newly weds.

Really though, Barton was in the middle of plotting each way to kill their captors and leave with no one the wiser. And he just knew his partner was doing the same.

It wasn't a long lived silence in the room though. Soon enough, the guards snapped to attention as the old man they brought up here earlier stepped into the room.

"Sorry about this, Mr. Rosewood." Roland said with an actual sorry smile, kneeling down infront of Clint to look him in the eye. "Just business, you understand, right?"

Business..? He didn't know much about this Roland guy, but it would seem the duo of SHIELD agents stumbled upon something a little more serious than a terror attack.

Dammit.. The stench of whiskey on his breath.. And cigar smoke.. You're not 5 Barton! Snap out of it!

"Business, huh..?" Barton croaked out, finding himself glaring at the man infront of him.

"Well, sometimes people aren't so willing to sign over what I want.." He pouted, and Clint found himself fearing what he was getting at. "At first, I'd ask.. But then I found a much more fun and simple way to get things.."

"You call this fun?" Clint said with a dry laugh, and Roland just grinned and patted the archer's cheek.

"Not for you, no.." Damn.. The guy was smiling, he looked like the happy jolly grandfather that kids would run and play with. The kind of guy who'd sit at a bar and buy you a drink.

But those eyes..

They held more evil and darkness than even the most hardened criminal he'd ever come across.

The man nodded to the guards still standing behind Clint as he stood up and pulled some papers from the envelope in his hands.

He could hear some shuffling before he caught the sight of one of the guards walking towards Natasha, a needle in his hand with a substantial amount of liquid inside. He tried struggle against his bindings to get to her, but felt the tip of a needle against his neck in moments.

She was definitely worse off than he was.

She wasn't even moving, just looking at Clint with those eyes saying the same thing he heard a billion times before.

"We're fucked."

She was probably given double or even triple whatever was running through his system right now. He'd bet everything that she put up one hell of a fight and probably took someone out before being jabbed.

He didn't look at her too long though, turning his glare pretty quickly onto Roland who was setting things up on a table in the corner.

"Latrodectus.. Rarely fatal. I came across is once during a hike in the woods. Got bitten, and went through hell for about a week.." He started, and Clint's heart immediately sank. Dammit, if that's what's in the vial held at both their necks right now.. And the smirk Roland held when he turned around told the archer that it was.

"Muscle pain, abdominal cramps, sweats, my heart felt like it would pop right out of my chest.. Oh and the spasms, my lord, they went on forever and would leave me bed bound for days.. That was only a little bite. So, I thought to myself, what if I could concentrate the venom, add a little touch here and there, and use that to my advantage..?"

Dammit all..

Latrodectus.. Where had he heard that before..?

A bite.. So a snake..? No, none he heard of..

Then it hit him. It hit him when he heard a soft laugh coming from the Latrodectus sitting across from him.

"Black Widow's, huh?" Clint said through a slight laugh, and Roland nodded with a sly grin to match. "Yeah, they can be bitches alright.."

For some reason, this calmed him. It shouldn't have, they were both in a horrible situation. Widow's venom rarely killed at all, but the odd time it definitely did and in a slow and painful way. These syringes were full of the liquid, usually the dose that kills is three or four drops of the spiders venom. They'd be dead within an hour if this happened.

Not the first time he's been facing death at the hand of a widow..

"Oh they can be! Yes, indeed!" The older gentleman was back, the one that was all smiley and would buy a drink all night for you. It scared Clint a little how quickly he could swap from one persona to another in an instant. "So, I suggest, you sign this contract for me. Forfeit your company, and 90 per cent of whatever your bank account currently holds to me."

Damn this guy doesn't play around..

Well, this looks bad alright..

Though, was it really?

He could just sign over the company. There'd be no problem with that. Sign over a fake company, let the guy think he's won, get the hell out of here, track the bastards down, have them by tomorrow, and have a nice little interrogation of them with his own favourite Black Widow.

Seems simple enough!

"Promise you'll let us go?" Clint asked with a sigh, trying to make it seem like it was the most difficult decision he's ever made.

"Scouts honour." Roland said with a grin, nodding to the guard who then proceeded to untie Clint and drag him to his feet.

The guards and the asshole would be knocked out right now if Barton didn't need help to even simply walk to the table.

He glanced at Natasha and frowned a little bit, she didn't look so hot right now.. Just sign this Barton and get her out of here!

A SHIELD team should be on the way to the alley behind the building soon anyway.. It's their pick up point for the end of the party. He just has to make it there..

"You're a smart man, Mr. Rosewood.." Roland grinned as he handed Clint the pen, which he struggled to grip and doubly struggled to write with. "Usually have to kill the wife before the man agrees to save his ass.."

"Love my wife a little too much for that.." Clint growled, glancing over his shoulder at Natasha before looking back to the contact. He signed and initialled everywhere Aster had to before dropping the pen.

"That's sweet.." Rolland said with what Clint thought was a genuine smile, but then it turned pretty evil pretty quick. "One last thing though.. I was never a scout.."

He didn't have a chance to ask the asshole what he meant by that, because, well, he got his answer in the form of a pinching in his neck then the most intense searing pain he's ever felt in his life.

There was a scream as he fell to his knees, and he instantly looked to Natasha who had a needle in her neck aswell.

Though she had no pain on her face. She just had her eyes screwed shut to block out the searing pain that she was no doubt feeling too.

She would never give the bastards the satisfaction of a sound. He knew that. She'd suffer in silence like every other mission so that they would never know that they got inside her head.

Dammit..

That meant to scream came from him..

He could feel the venom take effect immediately. Every muscle in his body was screaming in pain, searing white hot pain that would have any normal person rendered unconscious in shock in seconds.

Good thing he wasn't any normal person!

He could smell the burning flesh, the familiar scent that let him know a cigar was stubbed out somewhere on his body.

"Pleasure." He heard the muffled voice, a man, though why was it muffled? His aids couldn't have fallen out.. Dammit, concentrated venom. Senses weren't to go THIS quickly!

He tried lift his head from the floor and did just in time to see him walk towards Natasha, a guard definitely. He was in black so definitely not the main guy.

He was suddenly five again.. Watching as a man went over threateningly to a defenceless woman.

He had come home drunk again, he always shouted for her to go to bed if he was drunk. It would always wake Clint and the sound of a fist making contact with skin would always draw the boy from his bed and to the rickety old stairs to see what was going on. They'd give him nightmares, the sights he'd see. Things even adults shouldn't see. But mother was afraid of father, at least afraid enough not to leave him and take Clint and Barney with her. So she always suffered in silence and he always watched on, not fully understanding what was happening.

He never understood why dad's breath stank of that horrible drink when he'd beat him. Never understood why the cigars always had to be put out of his young arm instead of in the ashtray. He just never understood why someone would do things like that.

He understood now though. He understood a man was abusing his power over a weak woman. He understood that something unjust was happening. He understood that the sound of a fist hitting flesh shouldn't be heard. He understood now. And he was strong enough to something.

He wasn't a weak five year old anymore.

He wouldn't sit back and watch a woman he loved hurt like he did back then.

They weren't armed, he knew that, so with new found clarity and adrenaline, he lunged.

The guard went down easy enough, the unexpected tackle sending him down in seconds with Clint straddling ontop of him. His neck was snapped before his buddy could pull the archer off.

This was simple to get out of. They didn't seem to expect someone who knew how to fight, so obviously Roland just hired any ol' big guys in his company to act threatening. Because a real guard wouldn't hold someone attacking by the shoulders.

In an instant, Clint had jumped over the guys shoulder and had him crumpling to the ground with a broken neck before he could even turn around.

Two down.

The third wasn't going to be as quick..

Barton tuned and smirked at the currently-shitting-himself Roland, advancing oh so slightly as the older man tried back away towards the door.

"But.. No.." He stammered, and Clint raised an eyebrow in question. "You should be like her.. You should be on deaths door, Mr. Rosewood.."

Clint just smirked a little more, in one swift movement he held Roland up against the door by his throat.

"Clint Barton. Natasha Romanoff." Barton growled through his smirk, the mans eyes looking terrified but he doubted the idiot knew about those names, it was more than likely because Clint was currently choking the life out of him. "Little deadly duo from SHIELD known as Hawkeye and Black Widow.."

He released the man after a swift punch to the stomach, letting him crumple to the ground.

He wouldn't kill him.

No.

He'd leave him to answer to Natasha in interrogation when they got out of here.

But, he'd have a little fun.

"Never heard.." He tried huff out, but soon yelped as Barton kicked him onto his back. In an instant, Hawkeye was on top of the man, pinning him down so he could have some fun.

"Well now you have.." Clint smirked, a punch to the face following. "And I assure you.."

Another punch.

"You'll regret touching her.."

He let loose then. Everything releasing from his body as he let go a flurry of punches. He didn't let up, didn't pause for a breath. Even when the man fell unconscious, Clint continued with his beat down.

"Clint.."

He paused mid punch, fist still clenched as he listened to see if he was just hearing things.

Her tone was so weak, so unlike the strong confident bitchy woman he had partnered with for so many years, that it just wasn't possible.

"Hawk.. Clint.. Just stop.."

Dammit, it was her..

No one else called him Hawk..

He looked to Natasha and saw her barely awake, head slumped over as her body shook. Dammit the venom was getting to her..

He jumped up from the man, not even checking to see if he was still alive, too worried now about his partner to worry about the jackass on the floor.

"I'm sorry Nat.. Just hang on.." He whispered, behind the woman now as he untied her. Adrenaline still had him buzzing. He'd come down eventually.

And when he did, he knew he'd be a goner.

Before that happens, he had to get her to safety. She still had a chance.

"The alley.." She slurred as he lifted her up bridal style, leaving the room and running to the fire exit to get down to it.

"I know.. Just stay with me another half hour.. Then they'll be there." He called back, loudly, not a whisper. He had to keep her awake. Otherwise, it wouldn't matter who showed up.

She stayed quiet.

"Come on, you have to train me next week!" He said with as best a smile he could, his breathing dangerously hard as he took the steps two at a time.

Dammit adrenaline, get back here!

"And we have that mission in Taiwan tomorrow.." He continued, though as he neared the exit to the alley he felt the little energy he had slipping.

"Don't think so.." She replied weakly, though he was just overjoyed she replied at all!

"We do.. I have the arrows for it already.." He tried chuckle, falling down with her and sitting against the wall as he did.

He could feel his heart beginning to race, and his eyes grow heavy, but he couldn't give in. Not yet.

He held her close against him, watching as she struggled to keep her own eyes open.

"Nat.. Don't go, ok..?" He whispered frantically, her body starting to shake that little bit harder. "I can't find another partner.. They're all scared of me.."

"They a-all sick of you.." She tried smile, and it broke his heart more than this damn thumping was.

Her eyes didn't open the next time though, and she didn't follow up with whatever witty comment was bound to follow.

"Nat no.. Natasha.." He said with wide eyes, shaking her a little to try wake her up. "No no.. Romanoff, wake up!"

Dammit, he couldn't lose her like this!

He couldn't..

Something thumped extra hard in his chest, and he would bet you anything that it wasn't because of the venom running through his veins.

He'd kill her if she died like this!

Not in some shit hole alley! Not by some greedy business man! Not like this, not like this at all! Not in anything less than the most amazing fight ever witnessed!

"Please.." He whispered to her one last time, though one last shock wave of pain sent him into the world he'd no doubt meet his partner in.

~~

The headache was BAD!

Did she try drink vodka with Clint again?

Damn, vodka never agrees with her, she should have known that!

It was one of those headaches that had even your eyes thumping, you know that one?

Her mouth was on fire aswell. Definitely vodka!

That would mean if she rolled over, she'd hit the shoulder of her partner. They always wound up sleeping in the same bed after these kind of nights. Mostly because she's always worried he'd get in trouble with someone on the way home and he'd always insist on walking her home like a gentleman that he isn't.

Her limbs were heavy though. She tried lift her hand and groaned in pain. Damn, what were they up to..?

"Romanoff..?"

...Not Clint.

Definitely not Clint.

They never spoke the morning's he woke up in her bed.

He'd just make her breakfast and leave.

"Natasha, can you hear me?" Coulson. That worried voice is something she'd always know, regardless of hangover!

Wait.. No.. Not a hangover.

If Coulson's here then it's not a hangover..

Shit, what mission did they fuck up this time?

"Yeah.." Was all she could manage, her mouth way too dry to say much else.

Slowly, she pulled her eyes open, a dimly lit room meeting her sight. There was a bit of soft light coming through the window, either day break or sun set.

She rolled her head to see Coulson sitting by her bedside, that smile on, that 'Everything's ok even though it's not but whatevs I'm not gonna tell you it's not!' smile he always has when something went seriously wrong.

She wasn't lying down, which was a good sign, meant that either she was ok enough not to be in emergency crash position or she was awake a little before hand and they sat her up.

No tubes or wires from what she could see, not even an oxygen feed.

"We were just waiting for you to wake.. You're fine.." Coulson answered her unasked question as he handed her a cup of water, which she sipped from. She wasn't stupid, her mouth told her she's been out a while, so she'd have to sip or get sick.

"Stomach need pumping? I know I drink alot, but.."

Natasha didn't finish her sentence.

No, it wasn't drink related.

She was fine now, but no.

They were poisoned.

Bad.

Venom.

Damn Black Widow venom!

She should be dead!

They should be dead!

Wait..

You're fine..

You're..

She looked at Phil with slightly wide eyes, everything rushing back to her.

Clint got them out.

Clint killed two guys, probably three! She didn't see the last guy moving!

Clint got burned, the guard stabbed him and he didn't even seem to notice! He had the same poison that ran through her and he still got them out!

But Phil didn't say "You two idiots are fine!" or "Y'look better than Barton at least!" like he usually does!

"Where's Clint? Phil, where's Barton!?"

"Relax!" Coulson said with a worried frown, and she only realised then that her breathing hitched to dangerous levels. "He's down the hall. Don't worry!"

Her shoulders sagged a little at his words, her attention turning to the cup of water in her hands.

"And..?" She whispered, knowing that it was bad.

"And he's there.." Coulson whispered back after a while, and she knew it was all he could think to say. "It's been a little over a week.. We found the two of you in the alley just about gone.. Even then though, he just wouldn't release you."

Despite herself and the situation, she couldn't help the smile creeping onto her face. Even near death, he was protecting her.

"You were fine actually.. We got the anti venom into you once we figured out what it was and you responded well. No lasting effects, not much damage, though I bet you have a killer headache."

She just laughed and nodded, even his soft spoken voice was sending throbs through her head. She couldn't look at him really, didn't want to see his face right now, because the tone was enough to tell her that she got lucky, and Barton didn't.

"Clint had it bad.. Just wouldn't respond to the anti venom." Of course he wouldn't.. Why would he make things simple?

She could hear Phil give a sigh after a moment or two, obviously trying to find either the courage or words for the next part.

"We lost him a few times.. Got him back eventually, and yesterday he was finally moved from ICU to the ward.. He should be fine in time."

She stayed quiet, as did Coulson. They were friends, he was her handler so they were able to sit in silence comfortably.

She just needed to process everything. Just needed time. The light in the room just got less and less so she knew then it was night time, not early morning.

A half hour passed before Coulson cleared his throat.

"Fury and I spoke this morning.."

That's never a good thing..

"We're splitting up the team for a while.."

Her eyes went a little wide at that, and she finally looked to the older man sitting next to her.

"You've got to be shitting me.."

He shook his head with a sad smile, knowing she wouldn't take this well. Barton was going to be more difficult to tell though, she knew he'd kill everyone!

"The two of you need time.. And we feel that missions solo for now would be best.. Simple ones."

"That's bullshit and you know it is!" She pretty much yelled, feeling bad though since Coulson looked like she stabbed him through the heart.

But they were a team! Sure, back in the day she hated that she was paired with him. But they had grown to be the best damn team SHIELD had right now, grown to be friends, grown to be partners, they couldn't split them up now!

"I'm sorry Natasha.." He said softly, standing up then as if to make a point that he was the boss here, not her, not Clint. "He'll be sent to recover then sticking with me. As soon as you're up to it, you're going undercover in Stark Industries."

"He's your mission.." Natasha said quietly, more a statement than a question, and it seemed to throw her handler off guard a little. "I don't know how he got us out either.. But he's not a lab rat."

"I know.." Coulson replied quietly, heading for the door then. "But something was up with him, something stopped him from just collapsing and dying in that hotel room, and I have to keep an eye on him."

He was gone then, leaving Natasha to her thoughts once again.

Had she have been more vigilant that night, they wouldn't be split up. Had she have been the Black Widow, the world renowned and feared assassin then everything would be ok right now. But she wasn't. That night she was Natasha Romanoff. That night, she had let emotions get to her.

She hadn't expected an ambush, so when her partner was knocked unconscious she let emotions get the better of her for the first time in her life and she just lost it. She lashed out rather than attacked. She threw punches rather than landed hits. She fucked up and it nearly killed him.

She had to find him.

Carefully, she swung her body so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She felt like lead, but that would wear off soon. Wasn't the first time this feeling was present.

She was in some alright hospital pyjamas, not some silly gown, so she felt happy enough to just walk out of the room and down the hall.

It was SHIELD facility, so she knew exactly what room Clint would be in.

They always kept them side by side when the two of them would be hurt.

The door to his room was already open, so she just walked right in and over to her partner.

She frowned a little.

He looked pretty alright. Lying down on the bed but his head was propped up by three pillows. An oxygen nose plug was attached though, as well as an IV making sure he didn't get dehydrated. He was pale.

So very pale.

It scared her. Injuries, blood, gore. Bullets, knives, arrows. She could handle all of those. Those were visible, treatable.

Poison was another ball game. It was invisible, doing horrible damage to organs without anyone knowing.

So how did he manage to escape it for so long..?

"Clint.." She whispered softly, but nothing from him. It would usually get some sort of movement, even just an eye twitch.

But nothing.

"What did they do to you..?"

She didn't feel right standing there. Usually she'd be sitting next to him and trading stories, or would have gotten pissed off at him and left after he said something stupid.

This time was different.

Carefully, she sat on the bed next to him, then lay her legs up on it, making sure not to disturb him.

Though, as her head lay next to his, she stole a glance and realised he was still fast asleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest was all the comfort she needed right now.

She took his hand in hers then, frowning at the scrapes and cuts on them from when he beat the guy senseless. She didn't know if he got away or not, but she really doubted Coulson would have let that happen!

She let his hand lay ontop of hers, just so she wouldn't hit off the sensitive cuts. They lay on her lap as her other hand traced spirals on his wrist.

He always looked so fragile like this. Looked so much like a little kid that needed protecting. She was always more than willing to do so.

That's what partners do.

Time passed on, and she still didn't move. She just stayed there, watching her partners peaceful face.

When a flash of lightening lit the room up though she drew her attention to the window for a moment. Rain pattered against the window softly, that and his breathing being the only sound until the crack of thunder finally sounded.

"Tash.." It was soft, but it was there, and she instantly looked back to her partner.

His eyes weren't open, but his face was turned slightly towards hers and was no longer peaceful, it was kind of anguished. From what kind of pain, she just couldn't tell.

She just gave a sad smile and stroked the back of his hand with her fingers.

The one sentence that always soothed them after a mission gone wrong soon escaped her lips to try relax him.

"Relax Hawk.. I got first watch.."

*~*~*~*

The sound of the soft rain from that night so long ago was what woke her in the morning.

She gave a happy sigh and stretched herself out, letting her arms fall against the mattress to spread herself out.

She loved rainy days when there was nothing that had to be done. She could get a fire going and just relax with a cup of cocoa.. Curl up with a blanket and have Clint do-

Wait..

Where's he gone? They couldn't have released him yet and he definitely couldn't be walking!

She sat bolt upright and scanned the room, a confused look soon on her face when she realised she wasn't in a hospital room.

Just a dream, Natasha..

Clint's fine..

He got through that hell just fine..

Faced alot worse after it, but he was still fine.

And judging by the smell that was filling the place, he was fine enough to make some pancakes!

She got herself up out of bed with a little groan, her body stiff from spending all of yesterday on the mattress. He needed minding though, so she'd do it all again if she had to!

After making sure she wasn't looking like too much of a monster in the mirror, she left the room to go find her boyfriend.

Sure enough, she found the one and only Hawkeye sipping from some coffee at the counter in the kitchen, two plates of pancakes sitting at the table. It seemed like he was waiting for her.

"Good morning!" He greeted with a cheery smile, pushing himself away from the counter to go and give her a quick kiss. "Breakfast for m'lady!"

"Someone slept well." She smiled, patting his cheek gently before going to get herself a cup of coffee. Clint went to sit at the table while she did that.

"Well I did have quite a beautiful woman by my side.." He replied with a cheeky grin, and she had to roll her eyes.

She hated him sometimes.

They settled down to eat in silence, nothing needing to be said between them any more. They never had to explain anything or try make conversation. They were perfectly happy just being in each others company.

As she watched Clint read the paper, some pancakes constantly in his mouth as he did so, she realised that she loved him even in these moment. In the moments where he wasn't trying to show love, the moments where he was being completely un-charming, she still loved him. She couldn't imagine a time now when she wouldn't love him.

She could get used to this..

"Clint.." She said softly, and he looked to her with an eyebrow raised.

She gave him a little smile and reached over to wipe a little syrup from the corner of his mouth.

She wanted this every morning. She wanted him being across from her every morning, syrup faced and all. She didn't want anything less than what they had right now.

She didn't want anything less than the love they had right now.

They fought a long and difficult road to get here. They shouldn't be here at all, but they are, and she can't let that slip by just because she's stubborn.

She loves him. She loves him more than anything in the world. She can't lose him, she had to keep him.

"About that proposal.."


End file.
